


You are the Shining Star

by orphan_account



Series: You are My Star [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>[Kurokocchi, are you sleeping? (* ´ ∀)///]</p>
  <p>[I am.</p>
  <p>And you’re annoying.</p>
  <p>                                 -Kuroko]</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	You are the Shining Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuwacchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwacchi/gifts).
  * A translation of [You are the Shining Star](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25667) by Udit. 



> Okay so I blame it all on [darkreverie13](darkreverie13.tumblr.com) for asking if I was gonna translate this and [fuwacchi](fuwacchi.tumblr.com) for wanting to see this. Originally this started off as a review of Udit's fanfic-novel that I bought at ComicWorld, and I went ahead and translated an excerpt from it while I was raving about it. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, somehow I had began a solo 400+ page translation project.
> 
> So. Wish me luck.

 

 

 

**Contents:**

  
**Practice Game** I Tried to be Courageous vs. You’re Annoying

  
**1Q** I’ve Changed. vs. You’ve Changed

  
**2Q** Truthfully, I Like You vs. Truthfully, I Dislike You

  
**3Q** Can I Confess? vs. Can I Reject?

  
**4Q** Is It Too Late? vs. It’s Too Late.

  
**Extra Period** Can I Hear Your Response? vs. Do You Really Need to Hear it?

 

* * *

**Practice Game** I Tried to be Courageous vs. You’re Annoying.

 

The ceiling was white.

Staring at the flickering lamp, he blinked along with the fading light. The ceiling was still white and he was still feeling like crap.

_Ah._

Kise let out a long sigh.

Today, he lost for the first time.

Technically, he lost a _game_ for the first time (god knows Aomine kicked his ass way too many times to count during the 1-on-1 matches), but whatever. The point is that he lost. Without meaning to, the VCR inside Kise’s head whirred to life and began to play a tape. Slowly, once more, the match replayed in his mind.

 

Seirin’s number 10 jumped – high – and he, too, jumped almost simultaneously to block the other. The outstretched arm – trying to steal the ball, trying to stop the shot – is overwhelmed by the force of gravity and pressure. A slam. The rim of the hoop shuddered as the dunk went in. As the ball passed through the net and landed on the floor, a shrill echo of the whistle resounded.

And with a click, the tape stopped there.

 

100 to 98. A mere 2 point difference. It was a crushing defeat. There wasn’t even room for excuses; Kaijou was against an unknown school, they had not gone all out; went easy on them, that’s all, they underestimated Seiren – they had lost completely.

Kise buried his head into the pillow as if to escape the white ceiling. Heavy. Splayed languidly across the bed, his limbs felt heavier. It had been a while since he felt his muscles screaming in protest, aching and sore. When was the last time he had moved like this? A month ago? Or was it two months? Or, that time eight months ago?

 

_Click._

 

The tape replayed another scene. He’s transported to that moment, when the Nationals was over and he was looking up at the scoreboard.

Swiping away the sweat dripping down his face, he caught his breath, surrounded by others who were wearing expressions of passivity, neither basking in the glory nor thriving in the moment.

The near-harsh glare of the spotlights in the stadium. The heat. The roar that deafened his ears. Labored breathing. The smell and taste of sweat. Sticky strands of hair clung onto his face. Blinding flashes. Light. Light. And light. Something warm unfurled in his stomach and he could see colors again.

Ah, they won.

As soon as he understood that they had won, the reality of the “end” hit him. The National Championship of his last year of Teikou Middle School. It wasn’t something to marvel at, but it wasn’t a bad feeling either. He just wished he was a little bit more intoxicated by the victory.

As if snapping Kise out of his thoughts, he heard a faraway “Stand!” being called out. He turned his body and saw a figure at the end of his still-disoriented vision. He thought he was the last one, but someone was standing underneath the goal.

Kuroko Tetsuya.

Was it because he was always surrounded by gigantic players that towered over even Kise? While he wasn’t ‘short’ compared to an average person, Kuroko looked rather waifish standing on the court. Maybe it was also because of his sunless, fair complexion and the lack of presence in general.

Like Kise, Kuroko was unable to take his eyes off the scoreboard. Soaked with sweat, he wiped the edge of his jaw with his jersey just like Kise did. He played with all his might so it was natural. He didn't even seem like a substitute; he was a regular of Teikou’s Basketball Club and a clear actor in this victory.

Perhaps it was because he felt the gaze on him, but Kuroko turned around and looked at Kise. Why was it? Kuroko’s impassive demeanor usually hid his expressions but, for some reason, Kise could read the current expression on Kuroko’s face with frightening ease. Kuroko was making a very pained expression.

_'Why are you wearing such an expression?'_

He was about to ask when a command of “Stand!” interrupted him. It was the captain’s orders. He didn’t have the courage to outright defy his captain, so Kise shrugged his shoulders and lined up in the middle of the court. It wasn't like he had to ask right that moment.

He'd see Kuroko tomorrow at the gym, so he could just ask then.

But that opportunity didn't come. The next day, or the day after, Kuroko did not show. All Kise knew was that Kuroko turned in a letter of resignation and left the team.

 

_Click._

 

The tape spun one final time, bringing Kise to a different time entirely. It was today’s match, the one he repeated over and over to the point that he was relatively sick of it. The tape rewound from the moment the buzzer-beater swished through the net. Then it rewound a little more: past the second half and into the 2Q.

“Kuroko!”

By the time he turned toward the noise that was either a scream or a cry – he couldn’t tell – it was already too late. The whistle sounded before the sickening feeling by his elbow faded.

“Referee, time!”

“Kuroko, you okay?”

“Kuroko!”

“Someone, get the first-aid kit!”

Amidst the swirl of words and snippets of conversation, Kise saw blood, red and crimson. The cut was near the forehead, bleeding so badly that Kuroko couldn’t open his eye.

Even as Kuroko walked out of the court, swaying weakly from side to side, Kise couldn’t look away. He wanted to run to the other’s side and ask, “Are you okay?” However, the words wouldn’t leave his mouth.

Maybe back during the Teikou days, Kise could’ve asked that question; but now they were enemies, the fact it was just a practice game notwithstanding. Crippling the team’s player and offering comfort was nothing but an insult. Kise couldn’t bring himself to ask – like that time on the court when he couldn’t ask, “Why are you wearing such an expression?”

 

_Click._

 

The tape stopped playing right there. Whether it stopped because he got tired of seeing the same thing again and again, or because the last thing he remembered was Kuroko, Kise did not know. Pressing his forehead to his pillow, Kise sighed once more.

‘I did ask… if he was okay…’

In the end, he couldn’t say that he was sorry. He knew that Kuroko was not one to mind such things, but it still bothered him. He had meant to apologize. At the very least, he would have bowed his head and said, “It really was unintentional. I’m sorry.”

It was all because of that big, violent idiot with a case of Othello Syndrome. (His basketball was the only acceptable thing about him).  If only he hadn’t interrupted their conversation. If only those annoying bastards hadn’t barged into the street court, and he just had to get involved… Ah, damn it! Why was it bothering him so much??

He banged his head against the bed and rolled back and forth. It wasn’t like him to do nothing about it. He grabbed the backpack that was leaning against the bedpost, and took out his phone.

Scrolling through his contacts list, Kise found Kuroko’s number and, with slight hesitation, typed out a message. His fingers fumbled, trying to type an appropriate apology. Since it was a bit awkward to say “Sorry!” out of nowhere, he typed out an easy greeting instead.

 

[Kurokocchi, are you sleeping? (* ´ ∀)///]

 

About 10 minutes after he had sent the mail, a cheerful ringtone indicated that he received a reply.

‘Ah, it’s here.’

Kise read the message with a hint of anticipation mixed with anxiety. A dry, formal message lacking any emoticons whatsoever had arrived from Kuroko.

 

[I am.

And you’re annoying.

                                 -Kuroko]

* * *

**Edited on 8/8/13 -** Proofread by fuwacchi

**Author's Note:**

> _/shoots myself in the head for the shitty translation._
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> Okay I know this may be boring now but my translation *really* doesn't give it justice. I swear it will get better.
> 
> In case anyone wants to see the other translated excerpts: [Tumblr](http://rosa-raine.tumblr.com/tagged/author:_Udit)


End file.
